


When The Night Is Dark, Darling, You're My Light

by 0ctaviablaked



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hopeful-ish ending?, Nightmares, Post-Mount Weather, idk i'm bad at tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:51:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6028426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0ctaviablaked/pseuds/0ctaviablaked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke both have their own share of guilt over the Mountain, and since they refuse to be adults and talk about it, they suffer through the dreams that their overactive minds create for them.</p><p>OR Clarke stays in Camp Jaha after the Mountain, and she and Bellamy comfort each other after they have nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Night Is Dark, Darling, You're My Light

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first one shot I've written in a while, and any sort of comments or constructive criticism is appreciated!

“Clarke, if you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven. Please, come inside.”

“Take care of them for me.”

“Clarke-“

“No. Seeing their faces every day is just going to remind me of what I did to get them here.”

“What **we** did! You don’t have to do this alone.” By now, he’s sure that his voice is rising to a panic.

For a long time, she’s quiet. He can see the wheels in her head turning. He can see her come to a decision before she even opens her mouth. She won’t stay.

The words that finally leave her lips are not what he’s expecting.

“Alright. I’ll come in.”

~

That first night back in Camp Jaha, they don’t sleep. Clarke tends to Abby, and Bellamy keeps watch outside of Octavia and Lincoln’s tent. She’s safe, he knows, and she doesn’t need him to do it, but it makes his heart stop beating erratically every time he can’t see her. Still. The fact that the sister he pulled the lever in Mount Weather for is still alive, warm and breathing on just the other side of a scrap of fabric, does little to ease the guilt that has made itself a home in his stomach.

The next morning, Clarke is exhausted, but she finally strays from her mother’s side when she falls asleep. Marcus Kane comes to take her place, promising to send someone to fetch Clarke if Abby wakes. She leaves the medical bay and finds herself a cup of tea. She pretends not to notice the disgusted looks the adults give her as she wanders through camp, checking on the 47 children they saved from the Mountain. _Forty-seven of our children saved, in exchange of countless numbers of theirs dead._

~

Clarke and Bellamy don’t cross paths until later that evening outside the tents that had been set up side by side for them. Silently, they assess each other. Clarke’s feet shift uneasily underneath her, and her eyes dart between his face and the ground. Bellamy simply looks at her sadly. Recovering from this pain was not going to be easy by any means. Even though he told her they were in this together, he could see in the hunch of her shoulders that she was trying to bear all the guilt on her own. “Clarke,” he says softly, just as she turns and pushes her way into her tent. Sighing and closing his eyes, he retires to his own for the evening.

~ 

Bellamy’s sleep can’t really be considered sleep. He drifts in and out of consciousness, never truly getting rest. But he’s almost grateful for that because he knows that to really close his eyes would be to welcome whatever terrors his mind can create for him. In one of the spells where he’s awake, he hears a strangled cry from close by. He doesn’t think, doesn’t wait to see if he’ll hear it again, just jumps out of his cot and goes into Clarke’s tent. She’s thrashing in her sleep, and the blankets are tangled around her legs.

“Clarke,” Bellamy says gruffly, his voice still thick and raspy with sleep as he crouches next to her. He places a careful hand on her shoulder to steady the tremors that wrack her body. “Clarke, wake up.” 

Clarke shoots into a sitting position with a gasp, and her eyes are unfocused as she stares at the wall. Finally, she seems to realize someone is in the tent with her. “Bellamy?” she asks, and her voice is so small, so broken, that his heart could stop. Swallowing, he nods once. Suddenly, she throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. He politely pretends not to notice the wetness of tears on his skin.

Clarke eventually lets go of him and slides over in her bed, begging him silently with her eyes. Wordlessly, he obliges and slides in next to her. He knows that he can’t deny her anything. Bellamy wraps his arms around her and pulls her against his chest, her blonde hair tickling his nose. Soon, Clarke’s breathing evens out, and maybe he’s imagining it, but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, her body has stopped shaking.

~ 

That’s how they spend their nights. Bellamy crawls into bed with Clarke, and holds her until they fall asleep. Usually, Bellamy doesn’t sleep much. He’s too busy protecting her. He knows she’s strong, but in the night, all of her defenses are down. Clarke has done so much for him, so much for all of them, that he’s convinced he can do this one thing for her, even if it means he walks around like he’s dead on his feet in the morning. When the sun rises, he slips away before she wakes, and goes about his daily business. They never talk about it.

~ 

When Bellamy catches the flu because his lack of sleep has weakened his immune system, they don’t talk about it either. Maybe Clarke is greedy and selfish. She can’t bear to have him away from her for a night, even if it means she might get sick herself. And Bellamy, even though he doesn’t want Clarke to catch the illness, can’t shake the image of her lashing out in her sleep the first night. He can’t stand to leave her alone to deal with the nightmares, and if he gets her sick, well, he’ll take care of her then, too. 

He hides the symptoms well, he thinks, until one day Abby Griffin all but drags him into the medical bay, saying that if he’s going to be sleeping with Clarke, he had better keep himself in good health. Bellamy’s ears go bright red when he realizes: _Abby knows._ He stumbles over his words as he tries to explain that it’s not like _that_ , it’s just for the nightmares, but the Chancellor won’t hear it, doesn’t even seem to care really. She just pushes him down onto a hospital bed and looks him over, checking his throat and his heartbeat. He learns that this must be where Clarke’s pushy attitude must come from. After Abby has finished her examination, he stands to go, but she sits him right back down.

“But-“ he protests, his chest tightening. _What about Clarke?_

“No,” she says firmly. “I’ll tell my daughter.” The knot in his chest loosens slightly. “Now, sleep, Bellamy.

When Bellamy wakes up, soft fingers are running through his hair, and a quiet voice is humming a melody. He opens his eyes to find the bluest oceans staring back at him.

“Hey,” Clarke whispers softly, a smile gracing her lips. “Mom said you were being difficult.” Bellamy opens his mouth to argue, but she cuts him off with a kiss to his burning forehead. “Just relax, Bell,” she murmurs, crawling up next to him and laying her head on his shoulder as she traces patterns on his chest with her finger. “It’s your turn to sleep, now. Let me take care of you for a change.” He smiles guiltily. Of course Clarke knew he wasn’t sleeping at night. He didn’t know why he had bothered to try to hide it. For the second time that day, he closed his eyes, welcoming the darkness.

~ 

The fever induced nightmares are not an improvement.

He’s back in the control room with Clarke and Monty. On the monitor in front of him, he watches as his little sister is forced to her knees. Clarke is still looking at the screens, frozen in horror. Her mother is about to get drilled into, Octavia is about to get executed. It’s taking too long, she’s not making a decision. In a rush, he turns to her, to tell her they can do it together. His sister, his responsibility, after all. But where he expects to see Clarke, Octavia is in her place, and now Clarke is on the screen where she used to be. He’s panicking, he’s lived this moment before, but this isn’t how it played out. Bellamy knows what he has to do, but even as he reaches for the lever, he knows it will be too late. Octavia is safe, and he will be able to save Abby Griffin, and the rest of the people in that god-awful room, but the trigger will get pulled, and he will watch Clarke’s blonde hair explode with red. He hears the bang of a gunshot, and hears his name tear from her lips. It's the worst sound Bellamy thinks he's ever heard. He's failed Clarke, and now her body is lying lifeless in a pool of her own blood. He swears that he can still hear her crying his name.

“Bellamy!” Clarke calls again, shaking his shoulder. Finally, his eyes shoot open and they dart around the med bay wildly until they land on the girl next to him. Before she has a chance to say anything, Bellamy crushes her to his chest in a hug. She’s startled, but she doesn’t say anything, just lets him hold her for as long as he needs. He buries his nose in her hair, and his fingers trace the back of her skull over and over until he’s sure that the gaping hole his nightmare procured was just a figment of his twisted imagination. 

“You’re okay,” he mumbles against her neck.

Clarke doesn't ask what his nightmare was about; it's not fair to ask him to relive it, and he never asks her to explain her dreams. Instead, she quietly confirms his statement. 

"We're okay."

~ 

Eventually, years later, the nightmares are gone for the most part. Every so often, Clarke will lay down at night and let Bellamy comfort her as tears stream down her face. Sometimes, Bellamy will hold Clarke’s face in his hands and stare at her as if he can’t believe she’s actually in front of him. He looks at her like she’s the most precious thing in his world. And she is. Sometimes, his mind manages to convince himself that she left him behind that day when they returned from Mount Weather with their battered and broken—but still breathing—friends in a tow. On days when Clarke can’t take the guilt, that’s what he reminds her of, that all these people are still living and breathing and prospering because of what she did. 

“What **we** did.”


End file.
